


Hope

by Piedpiper6666



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Based on a Poem, But really what do you expect, Ficlets, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I suck at tags, Mild Language, Sadstuck, it's homestuck of course there's language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piedpiper6666/pseuds/Piedpiper6666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope is the thing with feathers,<br/>That perches in the soul<br/>And sings the tune without the words,<br/>And never stops, at all.</p><p>And sweetest in the gale is heard,<br/>And sore must be the storm<br/>That could abash the little bird,<br/>That kept so many warm.</p><p>I've heard it in the chillest land,<br/>And on the strangest sea<br/>Yet, never in extremity,<br/>It asked a crumb of me.</p><p>--Hope, Emily Dickinson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Davesprite

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story posted on AO3. I started out on Wattpad and got an invitation for this site after reading so many awesome stories on this site. I thank you in advance for being awesome enough to even consider reading my works! THANKS! 38D

_Hope is the thing with feathers,_

_That perches in the soul_

_\--Excerpt from Hope,_ Emily Dickinson

                     Well this is new. You’re probably going to die. You suppose you’ve died before but it was never really _you_ , only the carbon-copies you created with your sick beats and scratching your time. Record. Things. Plus the whole jumping-into-a-dead-bird-and-growing-wings thing. And really this sleeping man on the floor isn’t you, per say, but another-universe-fucking-carbon-copy you, and you’re supposed to “Defend.” The little shit’s some kind of fucking sleeping beauty and you’re like the handsome price come to kiss the lady awake except the dwarves are giant bloodthirsty imps intent on murdering Dave and you’re orange and have wings and wow fuck that metaphor got away from you.

 

But you guess.

 

You guess at least if you help the little guy out.

 

Then he’s got hope.


	2. Kurloz

_And sings the tune without the words,_

_And never stops, at all._

 

 _\--Excerpt from Hope,_ Emily Dickinson

 

Sometimes you forget. Forget the sutures binding your newly unspeaking lips. Even though they’re not newly, not really. They’ve been there hundreds of sweeps, and yet no time at all. But sometimes, even after your sacred vow to _never again_ you still forget, attempting to pry apart your lips to form words, meaningless words when your hands could do the same.

But it’s so _fucking stupid_ sometimes, wishing you could laugh when someone tells a joke, scream when it hurts, it hurts so bad.

Then you remember; screaming is what got you into this fucking mess.

Screaming in terror at the monsters in the nights, screaming her ears away, stealing her sense so you took one from yourself, never to hurt another, _never_ her. 

                      

You forget sometimes, but then you remember.

                     

And she gives you hope.


	3. Sollux

_And sweetest in the gale is heard,_

_And sore must be the storm_

 

 _\--Excerpt from Hope,_ Emily Dickinson

 

When you’re hurting, when your head is aching like an alternia-quake is going to _split_ your head in two, (haha) when the screams of the soon-to-be-dead threaten to overwhelm your entire being, transforming you into a simple vessel for their torments to be heard, her laughter is your light.

The simple tonality of her melodious voice transformed into the soothing sound of her laughter still threatens to overwhelm you with its sheer perfection. And she’s laughing _because of you,_ because of something you said, a stupid joke that still made her laugh. Probably a stupid fish pun or a “two” joke, _god_ , why would she laugh with you?

And the storm really rages inside your head, sometimes, and it makes you want to curl up and die, be done, become a voice to torment someone else.

 

But then she laughs. She laughs and she parts the clouds, sooths the storm.

 

She brings hope.


	4. Eridan

_That could abash the little bird,_

_That kept so many warm._

_\--Excerpt from Hope,_ Emily Dickinson

Hope?

You _rule_ hope.

You are the _decider_ of hope.

And hope was lost long ago.

 

And so you tug on her arm, expecting her to join you, to switch sides with you. You’re saving her life, and she’ll be upset at first but then she’ll realize how absolutely fucked you would have been and you’ll be her prince, her violet prince, her prince of hope and she’ll realize just how wrong she was and-

“I’M NOT GLUBBING GOING WITH YOU ERIDAN!”

What?

Yes she is.

“Yes you are.”

“GET OFF OF ME!”

“Get the fuck off of her you douthebag. Sthe doethn’t want anything to do with you.”

Oh fuck this noise. Of course she wants to come, she wants to save her life. Obvviously. She just doesn’t want to leave _you_ Mr. Pissblood psionic-face. And so you push her to the side, because someone seems to be wanting to make decisions for her, well you’re not just going to stand by and watch that happen.

You’re not going to let her hope be lost. You fucked up already, you’re going to fix this.

And so you raise your wand of pure concentrated hope, not magic, magic is the fakest of all fakeries, and aim at the lowblood who thinks he can decide your fate, steal your girl and _rub in your fucking face_ just how abso-fucking-lutely stupid you were.

When his unconscious form slams against the wall with a satisfying “thud,” you turn to Feferi. Her face is aghast with what you have just done.

What HAVE you just done?

With a silent scream she hefts her 2x3dent and prepares to aim it at your hunched form. Your wand glows with the light of the hope that has been lost and, unbeknownst to you, it is the hope you stole, the hope for happiness for poor Feferi, the one you loved with an ache that bled deep down to your soul.

Bled deep down and sucked the light out, leaving darkness. She was going to kill you. She was going to do it because you showed that pissblood who’s boss, how _dare_ she; how could she.

So, when you raise your wrist and flick it in that perfect way, the way that makes the light pour out of the end of the wooden weapon of destruction, it slices through her stomach like a knife through butter, like a knife through flesh.

Horrified. That is the only word you can use to describe yourself as. Is this what it feels like to go grimdark? You don’t think so. You think grimdarkness involves less control, less consciousness. You don’t feel right, you feel wrong.

A scream, female and terrified, causes you to turn towards Kanaya, with the matriorb. Trying to bring back hope.

Hope is _your job,_ and there ISN’T ANY HOPE LEFT YOU WOULD KNOW THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERED IS DEAD SHE’S DEAD AND-

Not really noticing, not really there, a white blast of light escapes your wand, hopesploding the matriorb, because it was a stupid idea, there isn’t any hope. It was lost.

The angry growling of a chainsaw causes another bright flash of light to pierce through flesh, a hole in her stomach appearing with disgusting speed.

 

Your wand glows bright. You are dark.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you see her angry face, you don’t blame her. You are surprised to see her face at all. And when the same noise, that angry chainsaw comes towards you with a thirst for vengeance, when a hand snaps your wand, debunks the _fucking bringer of hope itself,_ when you have legs and then don’t, you still don’t blame her.

 

 

You blame yourself.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m so fucking sorry Fef. I’m such an idiot.” Sobs wrack your sides, tears pouring out of dead, white eyes. You lay your head in Feferi’s lap, as she pets your head between your horns. She just radiates calm, forgiveness, forgiveness which you don’t deserve. With a quiet “Shhh,” she dismisses your apology in favor of continuing the gentle treatment of her killer, of you.

“I-“ You begin. How could you ever finish that sentence? Not completely thinking, you continue,” I thought, no” You correct yourself, knowing Feferi could see through any dishonesties. “I knew, I really fucking knew that hope was lost, Fef. I was trying to save you, save us and then you would want me again as something, anything, and you wouldn’t think I was just a-“

Feferi cuts off a sob, and grips your head between her hands. She pulls you up to face her, to look into her eyes. Somehow you know, she is looking straight at you. The whiteness of her eyes is not empty, but filled with an emotion you cannot hope to name.

“Eridan. There’s something very important you need to know about hope before you can start ruling over it.” Somehow her voice conveys humour while being the most serious thing you’ve ever heard. You sniffle and wait for her to continue. She chuckles a broken, sad chuckle, and grips your head all the tighter.

 

“There is always hope.”


	5. Jade

_I’ve heard it in the chillest land,_

_And on the strangest sea_

 

_\--Excerpt from Hope,_ Emily Dickinson

 

Waves crash against the wall of rock. All is silent except for this water, this angry roaring of the vengeful seas. And yet it is calming, in its own way. The sound of the ocean you look out onto, though it is the sounds of the war the waters wage on the rock face that forms the edge of your island, is still one of peace, because of the simple fact that it is the only sound to hear.

Glancing back toward the white spire that marks your home, you sigh, a deep breath first in then out. A crackling sound to your left causes your head to turn to see your faithful dog, here to keep you company in the quiet of the island.

“Good dog. Best friend.” You rub the top of Bec’s head, his foot thumping in clear approval of your actions. As you rub, a loop of string almost falls off of your fingers, one of your all-important reminders.

And so you remember what you were supposed to do. But really, what’s the rush, you think for once. You’re on an island. Alone. It can wait.

Turning your head to the wide expanses of ocean again, you sigh. Bec squirms under your left arm, whining as you have stopped rubbing his head. Instead, you switch to stroking his back, and he curls up under your warm touch. Your faithful pet, your best friend on your lonely island. Always giving you things you never knew you needed, things you really didn’t need. But one thing in particular stood out as a gift he never ceased to give on this lone island in a big ocean.

 

He always gave you hope.


	6. Karkat

_Yet, never in extremity,_

_It asked a crumb of me._

 

 _\--Excerpt from Hope,_ Emily Dickinson

 

You think it’s laughable to be so ignorant to believe that hope asks for nothing. You think it’s silly, juvenile really, to truly believe in your heart that if you just always have hope, never stop hoping, everything will be perfect and happy and sparkles and rainbows or some shit. You think they’re stupid, fucked in the head, not paying _attention_ to the world literally falling down around them. You think they don’t understand, because every single time you hope for something it takes something away from you, the fucking game and paradox space and the universes and time shit and really, why hope for something when you know it _won’t help a fucking thing._

And so, believing all of this, believing hope is a good for nothing fucker that ruins lives, a lifecrusher, when you see that human boy with the light of hope, the hope creating an ancient, primordial power and fueling everyone’s resolve, you pretty much feel like you want to smack past you in the forehead. With a knife. Because just look, the pretty magic light, no, light of fucking concentrated hope or some shit has actually _created a person_ who is in the process of doing some soul-destroying, a prince of heart made by the hope in this human’s mind.

And maybe hope isn’t quite as worthless as you thought. Maybe keeping it with you is alright in the end. Maybe having it is just kind of a given, and it doesn’t really take anything away from you.

 

You feel content with hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was really only written because I wanted to finish this story, and I personally don't really like this chapter. It was difficult to think of a character who thinks or thought that hope asked nothing of them, so I kind of just made this up. I really hate it, but whatever!
> 
> This is the end of "Hope," but never forget to always keep it in your heart, even in the darkest of times and in the roughest of storms. In the end, it is worth it. :)
> 
> HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY EVERYONE AND THANK YOU FOR READING MY FIRST STORY!


End file.
